A chord played through

fifty years Keith doesn’t need to look

he listens

a white face caught

eyes fixed on Bill

running the bass

and at the back

ready to take the mike

Mick dances

18.07.12

(from a photo of the Stones first gig)

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(I've never written a poem of this type before. I feel this a feeble attempt. Its audience is children. It came out of a workshop I attended. Your comments, impovements and criticisms would be more than appreciated)

Grody Hurlothrumbo

Grody Hurlothrumbo,

blobber lipped and yellowed,

stomps into my bedroom at night.

Repulsive and repugnant,

she scares me in fr...

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words

colours

          tearing

                   together

                                                                     across the page

           painting

                      writing

        sound

         brush

          pen

          out of

colours

 words

                     ...

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words

colours

          tearing together

                                                                                                       across the page

and the

           painting writing

are as

       a sound

           of

a brush

          or pen

          and out

               of

colours

 words

worlds

collide

      ...

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sometimes

you have to let

       yourself   fall

with the graceful

               arc

of the dive   r

or

the

plop

of

a fat fish

going with the flow

to love

     the

          music

April 2012

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The King Of Thorns

for the burden is heavy

burnt by fire, a barren road
where no flowers glow,
he carries his cross this King of Thorns.

brutal sacrificial lamb
as miracles die,
forgive them for
this empty tomb
dull bleak dusk
against grey sky.

I never knew him
a stranger walks

on this dry earth.

And paths can be
a rocky skin

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sunday snow

on the

ground

a log eyed

companion

burns

to

  my

     door

           no

             beaten

                      path

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how old was I

                      nine

                     I don’t remember

too young though

 to change

       a fuse

my brother stood

                   serious eyes

 part of the home stood

                                     still

                no stylus grooved

                nor wireless sang

                  or...

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i had hoped

you’

      died

that the pins

i’

d

stuck

killed          you

the pins

don’t work

pink

black

       or

blue

you

still wander

larger

        than

life

spreading

callous

cruelty

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sincere

            apologies 

                          for

creating the wrong blog in the wrong place

sincerely folks

i hope you

find

it 

 elsewhere

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it’s freezing here

tonight

I can’t cope

without

you

hot water bottle

for my bed

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For my son, Joe, on his thirtieth birthday

thirty years ago

(how is thirty years a long time but the memory a second?)

I held you in my arms

baby, proud Father

as a photograph

so many old photographs

where for a second

the living are captured

I want to reach inside

live the moment

know again those people

whose flesh w...

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New Year

‘It’s nearly midnight!’

a drunken man shouts

and people feign excitement

5 4 3 2 1

another year

Shall we countdown to our deaths?

A man I can’t abide

approaches

extending a hand

woman

with florid face

broken veins

like vines

pouts for a kiss

December 2011

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